


Oesther

by LawrenceKinden



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bare - Freeform, Dubious Consent, Erotic, F/M, Fantasy, Magical, Rhyme, Rutting, Sex, Spanking, Spring, Sweat, fertility, fertility ritual, heat - Freeform, rhythm, rite, spank, switch - Freeform, vernal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:26:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawrenceKinden/pseuds/LawrenceKinden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rites of spring are hot, sweaty, and painful. [Story Contains Spanking]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oesther

Oesther had forgotten what day it was. It wasn’t until she saw the five of them standing at the barn doorway, each armed with a switch, each switch decorated with pastel ribbons, each stupid boy with a stupid grin pasted on his stupid face, that she realized it was the beginning of spring.

And on a Sunday too.

Oesther had been up early: feeding the horses, mending the fence, and checking on the baby goats, so she’d already worked up a fine sheen of sweat. The morning was warm; she’d taken off her flannel and tossed it on an old work bench, leaving her in a grey tank top and worn jeans, carrying the bucket she’d used to feed the goats.

“There she is,” said the boy in the lead, James.

“Get her!” shouted another, Paul.

Oesther narrowed her eyes at them, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough to dissuade them from the tradition they’d been eager to observe since they’d all turned thirteen.

As the boys surged for her, she threw her bucket at them. They shouted but she didn’t waste time watching. Instead, she spun and sprinted through the barn. She raced past the goat pen and last year’s stacked hay bales and scrambled up the ladder into the loft. It would have been a stupid decision except she knew there was a whole stack of early-cut, unbaled, straw just outside the loft window. As she pulled herself up into the loft, she felt someone snatch at her heel. And as she sprinted for the window, she heard Paul shout. Then she was falling and she turned over so as to hit back first, the straw breaking her fall.

Looking up, she saw a gaggle of boys staring down at her, stunned. She smiled and scrambled out of the straw even as the boys hurried to leave the loft and give chase. She knew what to do next. She would get to the back of the house and climb onto the roof of the porch, then to her bedroom window. She’d left the window open, but the door closed, and she could lock both. She knew the boys wouldn’t risk breaking in to get at her. If they damaged the house, they’d have her mother to deal with, and none of them wanted that.

But as she was rounding the corner to the back of the house, she was blindsided. In a tangle of limbs and cussing, she and one of the boys tumbled end over end. When they stopped, James was on top of her, straddling her tummy, his hands firmly on her shoulders.

“Get off me, or I’m going to break your nose,” Oesther said. Winded as she was, she was ready to fight.

James grinned at her. Despite she was furious with him, James had a nice smile.

“Don’t you want your spankings, Oesther? You used to look forward to them.”

“No, that was you.”

His grin widened.

Esther shoved James hard in the chest and in the wrestling match that ensued, managed to wrench his arm up behind his back. But it wasn’t enough. While she’d been wrestling with James, Paul and the others were hurrying from the barn. She let go of James and made for the porch, but they had her. Paul and David and Lucas and Randal grabbed her and pulled her down, wrestling her onto her tummy, grabbing at her blue jeans and pulling them to her ankles, grabbing at her tank top and pulling it to her armpits. They unclasped her bra and pulled down her panties, baring her to God and the world.

She felt the heat within begin to take hold, felt the pulse of the land below begin to beat. She tried to fight it, to hold it back. But one of the boys, Randal she thought, knelt at her side while the other four held her wrists and ankles. Randal raised his switch high, multi-colored ribbons rustling in the breeze.

She squirmed and cursed.

The switch cut the air and lit a fire across her back.

They took turns with her, chanting the nonsense rhymes and whipping her naked backside with their brightly decorated switches.

A’slithy way the pilgriff uck,

Bunnies to the river bank,

Vernal girls, toerath boys,

She’bless the switch that spank.

She squirmed and bucked, but while one of them slapped his stinging switch all along her back, butt, and thighs, the other four held her fast by wrist and ankle. She growled and grit, but tears tensed and spilled. She held her breath, but the cries still came.

Yoni thyrus and wood chuck, chuck

Fertile soil, fallus yank,

Bless the fields, nemow shuck

Soyb the lawl spank, spank, spank.

For the length of the rhyme, each of them switched her as hard and fast as he could, lighting her skin afire, stealing her breath, constricting her vision to a single flame, like a lone candle in a sunless world. She grabbed the flame, held on tight, and it warmed her, low and tight. The rhythm of the earth built in her ears.

Bachae Nysus Pomegran’uck

Apples, eggs, and She we thank

Nemow lawl She must’uck

Boys to fuck, girls to spank.

A moment within a moment spread from her flame and she sweat with it. Was hot with it. The whipping fire of the boys’ switches transformed her, gave her strength. She welcomed it even as she jerked free from them and sprang to her feet. The boys holding her scattered but the boy who’d been spanking her just jumped to his feet. It was James, and he held his switch defensively, like she might attack him.

“Oesther?”

She tried to take a step toward him, but her jeans and panties around her ankles hobbled her. She’d have fallen if he didn’t catch her. He tried to help her to her feet even as she tried to kick her pants off. She managed it after several frustrating moments, sending socks, shoes, and panties right along with them. And while she was at it, she tore her shirt and bra off over her head.

Thus bare from tip to toe, she gained her feet and glared around at the boys who had beaten her, fire in her eyes and in her loins, back throbbing, furious and voracious. The other boys backed up a step or three more, but James took a step forward, hands out, switch at his feet.

She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to her, kissing him hard and driving him to his knees. She kissed him like a person starved. She kissed him and felt his heartbeat in time with hers, his chest swelling as hers swelled. And she knew he was the one. Without looking again at the other boys, she tore at his shirt, desperate to free his flesh and…

“Oesther!”

She blinked down at him.

“Not here,” he said, blushing.

Oesther growled but nodded. She grabbed him under the armpit and at the waist, and with the strength of the heat within her and the earth beneath her, slung him over her shoulder. He yelped, but she ignored him as she strode around to the front door, each step of her bare feet on the earth a pulse, a beat, a rhythm of the land and the power that filled her, that ached for her.

She slammed open the front door and was met by her sister, Damara, still in her nightdress, hair mussy, eyes sleepy. Her eyes went wide when she saw Oesther, naked and striped, boy over her shoulder. Though most of her mind and body was focused on getting James upstairs as quickly as possible, a part of her chuckled at the look of surprise on Damara’s face. Obviously Damara had also forgotten today was the first day of spring. And as Oesther took the stairs two at a time, she heard her sister suddenly shout.

“No! Please no, I’m…” Her words ended in a wail and Oesther knew the other boys had found Damara and were commencing the traditional whipping.

She slammed open her bedroom door as she’d slammed open the front, and she tossed James on her bed. He pushed himself up on his elbows, eyes wide, and swallowed hard.

“Oesther…”

She tore at his pants with the strength of the land. He gasped and tried to back away, but she straddled him to hold him in place as she grabbed him around the base of his shaft to hold him steady. She placed the tip of him hard against her fire.

She took a moment to breathe.

From her open window, the scent of spring drifted. Deep within her, fire burned. And all around her, the earth chanted, calling to the fertile. Elsewhere in the house, Damara wailed the piteous of the spanked. Then Oesther thrust down hard.

James squealed.

Oesther held him tight with her thighs, squeezing for control, like taming a willful buck. She rode him as he built. He closed his eyes and bit his lip and held on to the bedclothes as though his life depended upon it. And through their coupling, she felt her awareness expand.

Her mind thrust into the earth, spreading through the family farm. The fire of her loins throbbed in time with their rhythm and the rhythm of others. She could feel her sister, Damara, with Paul on the couch in the living room, and she could feel her mother with her father in their room down the hall. And as her awareness spread through the land, she could feel other women’s fire as well, the Shannon girls on the farm downstream, and the Philson girls to the west. She and every woman of child-bearing age in the county with switch marks on her backside spread through the land, sank into it with their hearts beating in time, their throbbing echoed in the earth. Beneath her, James cried out and then again, filling her, and still she rode him hard, drawing from him everything she could, letting him fill her as she filled the earth.

And as the rhythm slowed, as the women of the county released their heat into the earth, Oesther’s breath caught and she arched her back, every muscle tensing. She thrust hard, drawing his seed again and letting it percolate through the land as her loins spasmed, tight and sharp. Exhausted, she fell limp on top of James, who grunted, but didn’t move. They took their breath deep, labored, their sweat mingling, their heat swirling.

Zephyr susurrus stirred the window curtains.

Oesther shivered as the sweat on her skin cooled. With a pained groan, she lifted herself off James and turned over onto her back. They lay side by side on the narrow bed, spent and unwilling to move.

“You still going to break my nose?” James asked, his tone tinted with humor and exhaustion.

“Don’t push your luck.”


End file.
